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KUCH TOH LOG KAHENGE - CHAPTER 1

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CONCEPT NOTE

KUCH TOH LOG KAHENGE”

The Violence of Words

Times now, in the truest sense, are harshly materialistic and dishonestly compromising. Arguably the most significant culprit in this situation are the “words” coming out of our mouth with enormous freedom but brutal dishonesty.

Words that were originally meant to connect people, make relationships, create bonding, establish actuality, and formulate beings are often used with extreme manipulation to the extent of being fabricated and often destructive. An act of mockery and juggling that is carried out persistently by a superior percentage of the population flawlessly turns our state of being into a delicious circus. Every sphere of our social structure has a tendency to misinterpret the freedom of speech granted to us by the constitution for our own specific interests and needs. We seldom speak to create conversations; what we create is just ‘noise’. Fictitious statements, loose talks, and grievous and unhygienic verbal spats and discussions have steadily infiltrated and become an integral part of our lifestyles and personas. Unknowingly, we have stretched our arms towards becoming a breed of consciously provoked politicians who try hard to construct intolerable spaces, annihilating and disintegrating the holistic legitimacy of life. Words alone can now be the best weapon of violence.

It’s all about me rather than we the people, and us, the society.

A family person may get into deceitful interactions to compose the image of an ideal family, caring less about the validity and honesty of the words he utters in the process.

On a podium in front of his sponsored and unsponsored audiences, a politician romances with his ever-friendly microphone, selling hope and expectations with unmeant and ambiguous speeches.

A friend doesn’t mind uttering words behind the back of his companion when necessary, which may cry out disloyalty and a lack of concern for the future of the concerned friendship.

Various relationships face crises but are eventually revitalised with the help of a slew of scripted lies and leisurely conversations showcasing calculated hypocrisy.

We, for our sake, have cooked up strategies that work profoundly as cover-ups and form a formidable partnership with the compromised conversations that are frequently used to hide real stories. These are the times we advertise… It seems even time has decided to be silent and wait for a brighter tomorrow when it may re-emerge in glorious conversations with truth, sensibility, and honesty.

Discussing this state of being through a medley of visual interpretations is what this exhibition is all about. Visuals have always been an effective medium of communication; this did act as an impetus that triggered me to conceive of a situation in which the artworks of a group of visual art practitioners would interact and dialogue, consequently creating space for non-verbal communication through their respective visual vocabularies. They would emerge as residents and metaphors to manifest the trends and characteristics of the current times. It may turn out to be an interactive exercise (psychologically) for people when they experience the ensemble of artworks shaped by different dialects and practices and engage themselves in visual exchange and conversation. The works would interlink, reciprocate, and fathom their existence.

Perhaps it is time to build territories where we can experience and explore the plethora of misjudgments and miscommunications, which may not radically mend things and reincarnate souls but may show us how we can redefine ourselves.

Ayan Mukherjee
Curator

‘The Violence of Words’

When words originate

And truth cares less,

When depth gets mimicked,

Mind and head warns fear.

How we construct the goods

When lost in ghosts,

of narrow domestic walls.

Then why we grow?

To, fool a “fall”?

Then make a sound,

A noise called unknown,

Life like a ‘crook’…

Thread in alone,

For the long for a

Desert of deficiency and dead habits..

I stare at you,

Your wasteful smile,

With tireless curse

Walk alone,

A mournful grind.

A futility called freedom.

Off words,

To lose the soul,

Roll alone to the early grave..

Remember??

The win, the wine,

Yet, a loss.

A song called life,

The Melody,

Try to grove to the vibe

Rock on…

Towards Gloom

Snooze,

Towards the Win..

Walk alone,

Fake,

Walk for the craze.

Talk to the diamond

Chase,

With a crowd of people

The empty noise made..

Words of deceit,

How does it matter?

 When “trend” replaces “contemporary,” 

The trickery and the murmur of a slaughter,

A God like an old friend,

Can’t fight the disease for long..

Why??

Words not true enough,

They fail to fight for peace.

How we fail,

To miss,

The rise..

We chase..

The ‘grunge’ called life.

You & Me

We do crack

We make,

Bargain an ‘outlandish’ Cake.

And ‘Word’

Calls

For meaning

And ‘Sound’

Calls

For voices..

Ayan Mukherjee

STATEMENTS

Debasis Barui‘s kinetic installation demonstrates how the land breaks and again regenerates itself, symbolically representing how words today can construct and deconstruct a civilization…

How do we get into the situation where just existing, let alone breathing, becomes difficult? Pradip Patra‘s rather massive installation, surrealistically placed inside the interiors of a white cube, rallies us on with metaphors like a collection of roses with their thorns resembling an arrow (which is a weapon) and words that correlate with our lives and can ironically be a “trap” while living.

Rounak digs into personal spaces and searches for the word of virtue and moral living.

Saumik’s bandaged legs walk along the roads; what they discover are the unknown spaces of crudity when legs no longer exist only as mere living objects… It talks about life-sentence philosophy and anecdotes. 

Srikanta employs literature, history, mythology, and personal spaces to create a language of the real and the unreal, a sociological satire of words to unravel.

How text destroys itself to create historical formalities… Sweety‘s desires are words and prey; they only die and burn…

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